


Smooching Entrapment

by IDetestTragedy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drama, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Kissing, M/M, Mild Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDetestTragedy/pseuds/IDetestTragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be it through wits or wiles, Oikawa would get what he wanted, and his best friend’s virgin lips were no exception, a.k.a. the three times he endeavored to get Iwaizumi to kiss him during their first year of high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooching Entrapment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Haikyuu is Furudate Haruichi’s property  
> Credit: Immeasurable thanks to my almighty beta reader, Fyrshi  
> Cultural Note: “Oba-chan” means “auntie”; it’s common to address the mother of one’s friend in this manner in Japan (actually, “oba-san” would be more widely used, but since Oikawa loves to call everyone with such a childish honorific…)

"Y' know, Iwa-chan, instead of glaring at me whenever my fangirls are fawning over me, you could get yourself some of your own chicks," Oikawa casually remarked one evening as the two boys carried the volley net back to the equipment room, sweat clinging to their blue-and-white uniform.

The moment Oikawa had announced that he had wanted to hone his improved toss even further, he knew that Iwaizumi had guessed what he had in store for the two of them. A toss needed a receiver, and Oikawa had secured himself a justifiable motive to practice: first-years had to earn their place. Besides, Seijō's current Setter—a second-year upperclassman—had skills that were nowhere near shabby, and the Best Setter's Award that Oikawa received in his final year of Kitagawa Daīchi Junior High didn't automatically win him a place as Aoba Jōsai's official Setter. Thus, here they were, disregarding their growling stomachs as they practiced until late at night, long after all other club members had gone home for the day.

Iwaizumi's rising irritation grew noticeable with the appearance of his oft-abused veins, but this only encouraged Oikawa to switch to his blabbermouth mode. Iwaizumi could make him feel countless things at once and create a symphony of emotions that raced and collided against each other throughout his body by  _just_  being there. It would only be fair if he did something to agitate his childhood friend back, wouldn't it? "You aren't half-bad yourself. Surely, you could wing—"

"Shut the hell up, Trashy-kawa!" Iwaizumi slammed the door shut, clearly intent on trapping Oikawa inside the equipment room.

Two seconds later, said door swung open to reveal a pouty Oikawa. "How mean! You're calling me names again. What's more, you abandoned me here. What if mice start to gnaw on my clothes? I'll be naked when the morning comes and then I'll be bedridden with a cold, and it'd be your fault!"

"That'll give Seijō's team enough peace to practice for the next few days." Iwaizumi stomped his way to the changing room.

Incited by Iwaizumi's obvious irritation, Oikawa continued to pester the already irked boy, "But since it's you who gave me the cold in the first place, you'll have to take responsibility and nurse me back to health. Oh, and some milk bread would be nice~"

He observed with growing satisfaction that the slant of his best friend's brow tilted downwards as Iwaizumi deigned to answer him. "I'm not your food dispenser, Ass-y-kawa! Why don't you ask your fangirls to fill that position for you?"

If he could just poke at the right spot, Iwaizumi would snap and wouldn't that be an  _amusing_  sight to behold! Thus, before the spiky-haired boy could storm away in a huff, Oikawa stepped in front of Iwaizumi and effectively blocked his way. Iwaizumi opened his mouth to shoo his devil-may-care teammate away, but Oikawa interrupted him when he leaned in toward him so that their foreheads were nearly touching.

"I knew it!" He pointed out at the bridge of Iwaizumi's nose. "You always get creases over here whenever we start talking about my fangirls. Are you jealous of me?"

"Why the heck would I?"

Oikawa interrupted him so smoothly that it barely felt as loaded as it should have, "Then, are you jealous of  _them_?"

The question generated a change in Iwaizumi's breathing, such that the increase in the flow of air into his lungs widened his pupils quite noticeably. As rosy color crept up Iwaizumi's cheeks at the implication of his words, Oikawa suddenly felt that the deserted hallway echoed every existing sound, from the garish squeaks of his sneakers to the scarcely perceptible tingling of his nerves.

Yet Iwaizumi took a side-step to dodge Oikawa's body block. "Stop spouting nonsense, Moron-kawa!"

"Yeah, yeah." Oikawa waved his hand dismissively as they arrived before the changing room's door, his lips curling into what he hoped would be a smile cloying enough to infect Iwaizumi with its sweetness. It had never been challenging enough to conquer any of his fawning fangirls … but Iwaizumi was never a resistless adversary and did wonders for his boredom. "I get it. It grates on your nerves that you've kissed nobody except for mommy, while I've kissed plenty of girls."

"I never said that!" Iwaizumi jerked the door open with an earth-shattering force and charged inside with speed born of mounting fury.

However, before he could slam it in front of Oikawa for the second time that night, Oikawa's hand curled around the door handle and wrapped his own hand within it. In a flash, the rest of Oikawa's body was aligned closely with Iwaizumi's that their faces were only inches apart. Granted, it was far closer than he was entitled to be, but it was just far enough for the hunter to watch those enticing dark eyes gleaming with the terror of the hunted.

"Everything needs practice if you want to be good at it—kissing included," Oikawa declared, as he took full advantage of Iwaizumi's petrified moment of surprise by trapping the shorter of them between his body and the door. He whispered in Iwaizumi's left ear, spilling his warm breath over every inch of Iwaizumi's cheek so that Iwaizumi's breath hitched at the sensation. "That's why, Iwa-chan, I'll help you become a good kisser and spare you from spinsterhood."

Oikawa was bending forward, heart hammering in his chest but ready to claim Iwaizumi's lips, when an uppercut landed squarely on his chin.

"Mind your own business, Stupid-kawa!" Iwaizumi huffed with his cheeks bright red and a ferocious glare in his eyes.

Oikawa didn't say anything in return, even when Iwaizumi had shoved him out of the way a long time ago. It wasn't until Iwaizumi had left the room that Oikawa slumped against the wall. Even in the darkest of nights, the vinyl floor of Aoba Jōsai's changing room had never seemed so bleak, dappled in lurid shade from the sickly moon peeping in through the window. He wished he could undo the last three minutes' event and shape them into something Iwaizumi would deserve better … but instead, he could only remain in this stillness of nothing, nothing, _nothing_.

###

The second time Oikawa summoned the gall for another kiss attempt took place five weeks later, during the summer vacation. Being his best friend since their bedwetting days, this was neither the first nor the last time that Iwaizumi had tagged along when it came to the Oikawa's family trip. This time, their choice was a five-day break in the Fukuoka Prefecture, with its Yamakasa Festival, castle, garden, shrine, beach, tower, and dome. However, at the sight of "strawberry picking" sign on the way, all the youngest Oikawa needed to do was to jab his finger and spout a few whines for his parents to agree that the car should head there—he hadn't been the youngest child for the last fifteen years for nothing, with his siblings doting on him and his parents granting every wish spouted by his whiny mouth.

"This farm is free from pesticide, since we exterminate bugs with their biological enemy. It's quite safe for you to eat the strawberries you pick without washing them first," a staff member of the farm explained to visitors as her colleague distributed segmented plastic containers, where the circular half was filled with condensed milk for the strawberries and the rectangular half was left empty for collecting the discarded stems.

Disregarding the other families' younger children, who were appreciatively listening to tips on how to select ripe strawberries, Oikawa Tōru flitted into the nearest greenhouse. Despite his happy-go-lucky attitude, he was listening closely for any pursuing footsteps. Sure enough, the awaited sound of rapid footsteps filled his ears, just as Iwaizumi's figure appeared in his periphery; as expected, mother hen Iwaizumi was going to make sure that Oikawa wouldn't trample on the grove.

The rows of lush hedges, interspersed with their tiny red berries, were refreshing to see, but the sweet scent of the air cocooned within the walls of acrylic glass was more intoxicating still. After inhaling the fragrance deeply, Oikawa began to inspect the strawberries, before he soon held a ripe strawberry upside-down and bent its stem to one side. Squinting at the plucked fruit, he muttered, "Too bad this is the  _Amaō_  type; I crave  _Yayoihime_." Secretly, though, he congratulated himself for having a companion who was incapable of recognizing that the former type would have rounder body and darker color than the latter, or else his charade would've been blown.

"It's your own fault for not listening. The farmer may be explaining which type is planted in which greenhouse to the other visitors right now," Iwaizumi berated.

But Oikawa had dipped the strawberry into his milk before Iwaizumi could chastise him further. As he carefully maintained eye contact, he swept his tongue over the berry, before he playfully engulfed the bottom half of the fruit in the hot, velvety softness of his mouth.

"Mm … yummy," Oikawa deliberately moaned, and he internally leered with satisfaction as he noticed Iwaizumi watching his teasing display fixatedly, hypnotized by the way his lips were moving. The trance only grew deeper with every glorious drop of milk that trickled down his chin, and he knew that he wouldn't even need to get down and dirty for Iwaizumi's adolescence-driven hormones to visualize a thicker and saltier substance produced by his own body clinging to Oikawa's chin.

Pinching the half-eaten strawberry by its stem, Oikawa thrust his arm forward and offered, in the most innocent tone he could muster, "Want some?"

"Wh-why would I?! I can pick my own fruit!"

Oikawa shrugged as he hid the smirk that tugged insistently on his lips. "You look like you want the one I'm eating, though. Are you  _sure_  you don't want it?"

"Stop imagining things, Trashy-kawa!" Iwaizumi turned around and irately approached another hedge. That did nothing to prevent Oikawa from seeing the scarlet that suffused the tips of Iwaizumi's ears, though.

Oikawa allowed a small smile to emerge on his feature, although he let out no verbal reply. He had been watching Iwaizumi closely, more closely than he should, but he supposed it was inevitable when one considered the circumstances of their near-lifelong friendship. Attraction was the obvious outcome when one stuck as closely to another as he did with Iwaizumi, and it was only natural that he should accept the opportunities served to him on a silver platter.

And accept it he did, with not the slightest reluctance; after all, it'd be better if friendship went hand-in-hand with romance. Iwaizumi had proven himself to be the best person to cater Oikawa's emotional needs on an almost daily basis, and his best friend understood him on a level that nobody else did. No matter how harsh Iwaizumi's treatment to him was, he actually doted on him (though he'd readily bash any blatant mouth that said this out loud). Besides, it wasn't like Iwaizumi could ignore him long enough for a pan of boiling water to cool off anyway.

Yet, in truth, it had never been about Oikawa capturing Iwaizumi's heart.

It was, in fact, the other way around, as was proven by his experiences of choosing girlfriends: the last one had a chin similar to Iwaizumi's, the previous had Iwaizumi's habit of speaking harshly, and the one before that had Iwaizumi's…

Munching the rest of his strawberry quietly, Oikawa tiptoed behind Iwaizumi and stayed hidden until Iwaizumi bit the berry he himself had just picked. Putting his years of practice into use, he sprang forward and seized the plump fruit with his teeth.

This petty deed earned Oikawa a gasp so heart-twistingly frank and shy that his heart stuttered dangerously in his chest. Unfortunately for him, though, Iwaizumi stepped back at once (damn his wing spiker reflexes!) and, in an instant, his surprise melted into explosive anger.

"What the fuck?!" Iwaizumi yelled. His grip crushed the plastic container in his hand so that some of the milk splashed out from it.

Oikawa dramatized a sigh after he'd swallowed his mouthful of Iwaizumi's strawberry. "Even the fruits of love aren't enough to set you in the mood, huh? I'll have to make do with just an indirect kiss for today then, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi's mouth opened in a furious rictus, but the bunch of tourists, who'd chosen that exact moment to enter the greenhouse, thwarted his chance to argue back.

Oikawa ate the stolen strawberry as Iwaizumi fumed quietly beside him. It tasted sweet against his tongue, but curdled bitterly inside his stomach.

###

Oikawa thought up of the ways to orchestrate more kiss attacks as he whistled a cheerful tune on the way to Iwaizumi's house, where he'd been sent on an errand by his mom to deliver a bag of oranges. In the three months following the strawberry incident, Iwaizumi had predictably tightened his guard, negating any opportunity to steal a kiss from him.

As soon as Iwaizumi's mother opened the door, Oikawa noticed cardboard boxes littering the entryway and the living room. The TV set was gone, and so were the flower vase, pictures, and other knickknacks that used to decorate the house. Even the coffee table was stripped bare of mugs and magazines. Panic stabbed Oikawa as a pall of silence settled over him, while he tried to figure out how to breathe again.

" _Oba-chan_ , you're moving out?" he tentatively asked, when his mind had eventually processed this unsavory fact.

Her confirmation burnt the last morsels of foolish hope within him to ashes. "Why, yes, Tōru-kun. My husband's been relocated to a different office branch."

Manners be damned! Oikawa dropped his bag, ignoring the oranges that rolled onto the floor, before his body kicked into gear. He dashed past Iwaizumi's mother and down the hallway, straight up to Iwaizumi's bedroom, and found the room's occupant packing the last of his clothes into a cardboard box when he'd flung the door open. The formerly ever-present volleyball was nowhere to be seen. The shelves and dressers had been emptied, and three other sealed boxes had been stacked at one corner.

He barged in, raving, "Why didn't you tell me you were moving away?!"

"It isn't a big deal." Using the handheld tape dispenser, Iwaizumi sealed the cardboard box, going across its whole length where the flaps were closed, before he folded the tape's overhang to the sides with practiced ease.

"Not a big deal?" Oikawa mimicked the phrase, bile rising to his throat, and his voice sounded shakier than he would have preferred.

He was accustomed to pulling people's strings, like a puppeteer would for his puppets, but now he'd been introduced to the strings that'd been attached to him, all along. Was the knowledge that his best friend had usurped his role in his own life supposed to foster the bitter worms that infested his stomach and gnawed at his entrails?

Or was he the only one who  _assumed_  they were best friends?

"Yeah, that's right. You can go wherever and whenever you like! Get a new school, new volleyball club, new friends … though, of course, none of them will be as awesome as me." Against his better judgment, Oikawa's voice sounded a shade too high-pitched, for it was too overwrought by emotions his pride forbade him to name.

Iwaizumi rose to his feet and abandoned his newly-sealed box, but Oikawa cut him off before he could even hope to voice his objections.

"Surely you won't think I'm gonna miss you. I have lots of insatiable fans to take care of me, and you know it. A word from my mouth, and any of them would gladly pick me up in the morning and even bring me a boxed lunch." This felt wrong. The falseness was suffocating. There was no way the shrill voice that currently pierced through the air belonged to him.

Iwaizumi cast him a 'this is ridiculous' look, but Oikawa couldn't stop himself. His vision was getting blurry, even as he grabbed Iwaizumi's collar. "You can't go!"

Shaking off Oikawa's desperate grip, Iwaizumi scoffed, "Of course I can."

"Without you, my life will hold no meaning. I love you!" Oikawa's cheeks felt hot and wet from the tears he was too ashamed to pour out, but unable to restrain. No, this wasn't him. There was no way this emotional outburst belonged to the crafty boy who'd effortlessly manipulated others' weaknesses and concealed his own from prying eyes.

"Took you long enough to spill the beans, Shitty-kawa," Iwaizumi remarked, while his index finger flicked Oikawa's forehead.

"Ouch … you meanie! What was that for?"

"You didn't even let me explain that I wasn't going to transfer school. The distance between my new house and yours is about the same as our current one, except that the house is going to be on the west of yours instead of on the east."

Relieved and horrified at the same time, Oikawa's mouth formed the ugliest 'o' that nature could bestow upon him.

…though how such an unsightly expression became a major turn-on for Iwaizumi would evade Oikawa's reasoning. All he knew was that there was a pressure against his lips, because Iwaizumi's lips had snatched his in a breathtaking kiss.

Oikawa felt his ocular muscles contracting. His pupils must've been dilating ridiculously at that point in time. He captured each of Iwaizumi's movements like slow-motion animation frames—the parted lips, the mesmerizing eyes, the sharp intake of breath, the slightly hunched shoulders, the leaning torso … how many times had he pretended it was Iwaizumi he kissed whenever he was with a girl? And, before he could comprehend all this, his universe had only consisted of him and the person he loved most in the moment their mouths had connected.

As soon as their kiss was over, Oikawa couldn't help but ask, "Why now, though? You turned me down so stubbornly before."

Notwithstanding his flushed cheeks, Iwaizumi declared, "You just messed around with me even though you had girlfriends. There wasn't a chance in hell that I'd kiss someone who didn't love me back."

Every fiber in Oikawa's being thrummed with elation, from the initial tingle in his spine to the feather-lightness that spread to the rest of his body, which made him feel as if he was floating in mid-air. Mouth curling into a grin, he lost the power to hide the gloat in his tone as he chirped in a sing-song, "You've had a thing for me since ages ago, haven't you?"

"Shut your trap! Don't tell me you've been launching those kiss attacks against me without expecting payback."

"Will that payback come with lots of interest, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa chuckled as he flung his arms around Iwaizumi's shoulders to pull the shorter boy closer. This wasn't how he had planned it, but … whatever floated his boat. Third time's the charm, right?

THE END

* * *

OMAKE

"Oikawa Tōru keeled forward, battered armor encumbering him and blood dripping from his wounds so that the ground was spotted red with every tortured step he took. The Aoba Jōsai—the fortress he'd defended with his life—had fallen, and the Karasuno Clan had grown mightier than ever, trampling every other clan in the Tohoku area. Although it was a disgrace for a samurai to use a sword as a walking stick, like what he was currently doing, he must persist. He needed to reach his most important person.

"'Iwa-chan,' he wheezed; it hurt his punctured lung to articulate as much as a syllable, yet there was no time to convey his true feelings before his body gave up on him. 'I've always wanted to be a friend you could be proud of … I've always wanted to make you the happiest man breathing … but I can't even keep my promise of exchanging a cup of sake under the moonlight with you. I'm sorry.'

"The grim warrior turned around and met him halfway, with dignity in all his bearing. 'Pay it no mind, brother-in-arms of mine. Wait for me on the other side.'

"Oikawa's lips curved upwards. The memories engraved in his seventeen years of life swirled in his mind, from his mother's lullaby during his infancy to his father's martial arts lesson during his tender years, but he smiled most fondly at the memories of running all summer to catch fireflies and fishing with Iwa-chan. He wished to verbalize how content he was to be able to spend his last moment in his best friend's arms and that it was enough for him to know that the entity named Iwaizumi Hajime still existed this very moment. Instead, all he could manage was a blood-spattered cough before his eyes closed for eternity and his soul departed from his body.

"'Rest well, my dearest comrade. I shall be with you soon.' Iwaizumi gazed solemnly at Oikawa's unbreathing form one last time, and then looked up at the clear sky. It was a beautiful day to die. Peace enshrouded him and all the pain from his stab wounds dispersed into naught, for he would return to the earth and join his beloved in the afterlife.'"

"Soooo, I'm saying, before something like that happens to us, we should live our fullest, Iwa-chan. And that's why you should do me." Oikawa set the game console down onto the floor so that he could pick up the milk bun packet he had bought from a vending machine on the way to Iwaizumi's house. Unlike lots of other third years, they could afford to play video games, because they had received invitations in the form of sports scholarships from the same university.

Without tearing his gaze off the TV screen, Iwaizumi replied in a bored monotone, "Step out of your delusion."

“Oh, you want me to do you instead?” Oikawa teasingly asked in a possessive vibe, an octave lower than his normal tone.

"SHITTY-KAWAAAA!"

OWARI


End file.
